


kill your darlings

by HalfAnachronism



Category: Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (2011), Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy - All Media Types, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy - John Le Carré
Genre: Fix-It, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-23 21:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4893502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalfAnachronism/pseuds/HalfAnachronism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of Jim wants to stay the night, but he’s too scared to. Part of Bill wants to beg him not to leave, but he’s also too scared. They’re both young, scared boys who’ve done something they shouldn’t’ve, something that could get them killed, but it’s okay because Bill’s playing with the sparse hairs blossoming on Jim’s chest and Jim’s wishing that this moment wouldn’t end, and that he’d paid more attention, and for this to happen again somehow.</p>
<p>(aka the one in which Jim and Bill get a happy ending)</p>
            </blockquote>





	kill your darlings

All love stories begin and end the same; they meet, a bond blossoms, love appears, misunderstandings, disagreements, love disappears, but then finally a resolution and love is saved. Jim and Bill’s little love story starts the same, but without the happy ending. Fate didn’t even permit them a misunderstanding, their story is cut off before anything can _truly_ happen, before love can even find its way into both their hearts.

Let’s rewrite their story, shall we?

Let’s start when they’re young, long before this dreadful mess happened. Bill says, “What’s your dilemma?” and Jim says, “I haven’t got one,” and Bill says, “If you haven’t a dilemma, how did you get in?” and they laugh and they drink and they go back to Bill’s room. Bill’s handsy, Jim’s awkward, kisses are ill-aimed but well-meant, and their minds are wandering. Bill is thinking in locations: where to put his hands next, where to touch, where to kiss. Jim is thinking about anything but what’s going on, he’s thinking of that exam he’s got tomorrow that he should really be studying for, he’s thinking of that interesting dream he had last week. Jim’s mind is on everything but the thin boy on top of him who is using him like a tissue.

Part of Jim wants to stay the night, but he’s too scared to. Part of Bill wants to beg him not to leave, but he’s also too scared. They’re both young, scared boys who’ve done something they shouldn’t’ve, something that could get them killed, but it’s okay because Bill’s playing with the sparse hairs blossoming on Jim’s chest and Jim’s wishing that this moment wouldn’t end, and that he’d paid more attention, and for this to happen again somehow. Bill’s confident demeanor doesn’t fade even when he’s wrapped up in Jim’s arms, and when Jim slides out from under him it’s obvious that Bill’s been here before, and that it means nothing to him. Jim’s okay with that though, because he’s found _something_ , he’s found some sort of meaning, the answer to a question he didn’t know to ask yet. He’s had a delightful evening, and he tells Bill such.

“As did I.” quips Bill, “See you ‘round.”

Jim leaves and they both sleep alone that night, Bill a bit more upset about it than Jim, mostly because Jim doesn’t yet notice the absence. But he will, of course he will, he’ll end up growing used to sharing a space with someone, just like Bill is. The only difference is that Bill doesn’t care who’s next to him as long as they’re breathing and willing, but Jim will end up always wanting one specific person, one eternally beautiful man.

That’s the truth, there’s nothing to rewrite there. In fact, there’s not much to rewrite until later, because things only turn sour after both of them are in love, and at this point in time only one is. But let’s skip ahead to when they’re both working for the Circus and they’re constantly running into one another, smiling quickly at each other in the hall, sometimes slightly brushing fingers whenever they have to hand over files. They’re friends, they meet each other for coffee almost every day, and whenever one gets back from missions they head over to the other’s house for drinks. 

Jim’s house is neat, nothing out of place, the only dust residing on old sports trophies. Bill’s house, however, is a hodge podge of creativity; there’s paintings on easels and watercolor-stained clothing thrown everywhere, and a few poems written on napkins lying around. Jim likes reading Bill’s poems, thinking that if he could write poems he’d write about how Bill tastes of liquor and cherries, and how he smells like he’s enjoying himself thoroughly. He’d write about those soft eyes and that devastating smile. He’d write about how soft Bill’s pale skin is, and the sounds he makes. He doesn’t get to hear those sounds too often, however, only when Bill’s not had his fill of flesh lately. He doesn’t mind being a last resort though, in fact he doesn’t think about it too much. 

Years fly by but things stay relatively the same. They’re a happy couple, except they’re not a couple, and Jim’s as nervous around Bill as always, and Bill’s always putting on a show for others. Only Jim’s seen the real Bill, the quieter one, where the flirtations melt away and he’s left with nothing but lonely, affectionate Bill, the one that plays with hair and kisses the bruises on Jim’s knuckles. Bill’s face fits perfectly on Jim’s shoulder, occasional kisses ghosting Jim’s neck. This Bill is beautiful, he’s softer, more loving even if he doesn’t mean any of it. Jim likes to pretend he does, as does Bill, and it’s not until later Bill realizes he isn’t pretending.

This is where we need to edit a few things.

Let’s say Bill wasn’t a double agent. Let’s say it wasn’t his fault that Jim got shot and tortured, in fact let’s say that Jim was never shot and tortured in the first place. Let’s say that Bill comes to the realization that he’s in love with Jim earlier than he does, maybe it finally hits him when they’re lying together smoking instead of when he’s just found out that Jim has been shot and is suspected to be dead. Let’s say that when Bill becomes aware of his love for Jim, he looks over at him and sighs quietly, mentally noting how well Jim’s aged, remembering how cautious he was on that first night. Bill kisses Jim, and they both smile, and this is how it’s supposed to be.

Let’s say Jim doesn’t spend the rest of his life wondering if he’s loved back. Let’s say he finds out that Bill’s love poems are about him, and he smirks to himself but doesn’t say anything. Let’s say that sometimes Bill reads his poems out loud to him, his head on Jim’s shoulder, and Jim thinks every single word is gorgeous, and he tells Bill such, and Bill thinks about how the words are only gorgeous because Jim is, but he doesn’t say that. Let’s say that there’s no need to say that much, really, because they look at each other like all they could ever need is in the others’ eyes.

Jim’s breath is warm, his mouth is warm, and his hands are warm. Jim smells like grass and dirt and sweat and Bill finds this lovely. Jim takes Bill horseriding, and Bill doesn’t like it until he sees Jim grinning like a child. They’re getting older and their hair is starting to turn silver but it’s okay, because together they are ageless. Jim and Bill, the inseparables. Jim and Bill, the eternal. Jim and Bill, the lovers, who die in their eighties with smiles on their faces, knowing that they’ve lived a delightful life.


End file.
